


Downed

by EnEss_Caity



Series: Downed Series! [1]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24750238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnEss_Caity/pseuds/EnEss_Caity
Summary: Mirage tries to flirt with Bloodhound. He proposes a ton of new nicknames. Until one sticks. And he gets one of his own. :)
Relationships: Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Series: Downed Series! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828201
Comments: 5
Kudos: 51





	1. First, a Name!

**Author's Note:**

> see notes at the end for the comic this is made from~!

The assigned squads came through the display in the wall a little while ago. Bloodhound was paired with Mirage. They ignored the fluster of heat that flew to their face upon seeing their banners side by side. Mirage was one of a kind, they noted, agnostic in declaring their own feelings. They buried those undisclosed thoughts and began to prepare their worship space.

The incense smoke dissipated in the dim confines of their room. They finished their prayer at the same time. Asking for blessings was their way to center themself before a Game. But today they asked for extra guidance. They spoke aloud the prayers end, and stood from their altar. It was time to head to the dropship, and make good on their promises to the Allfather. 

-

His smile in the banner photo was a candle compared to his in-person sunrays. They sauntered towards him, and he beamed. Bloodhound scanned his face, as if they needed to memorize it. Maybe they did need to, maybe they simply wanted to. They didn’t continue that thread of thought, for their own sake. 

“You and Me, Bloodhound! Gotta say, and I'm being 100% honest here - You are sooo lucky!” He bounced his head around as he talked, and they were unable to look away. They were familiar with his self-congratulatory tone, and how it made its appearance when he was nervous. It was easy to deduce. They’d tracked enough animals who would fight to the death with bravado rather than admit pain. They found it equal parts endearing and a small source of pity. 

“Hah, okay even I can admit, I'm the lucky one. Can’t wait to fight next to you!” He punched them on the shoulder, and connected a bare knuckle to one of their metal armor pieces, he yelped. They chuckled at him, crossing their arms. 

“ _ Np, felagi fighter _ . You are skilled. We feel similarly.” They said, pausing any internal dialogue begging them to shut their mouth now before they said something incriminating. The way his shoulders rolled, as if he filled his chest with their simple compliment made their heart race. 

He strolled past them, taking a seat at the table in the center of the dropship, they followed suit. He fiddled with his holo-gear, then his hair, and his goggles, finally settling on re-lacing his boots. Bloodhound watched him at each task, it seemed that if he wasn't talking he was occupying his hands. Pre-game jitters? They found a strange comfort in noting his patterns. He looked at them again. They had a sudden need to inspect their gear too. 

“Hey, Teammate?” He flashed them a smile, “I’ve been wondering… Do you have a nickname?” They angled their head towards him, not entirely sure what he had meant. He continued, “Don’t get me wrong - ‘Bloodhound’, is cool! But i need somethin’ snappy!” He wrinkled his nose. “It's got a ton of sybil- uh, slyabl- SYLE- Y-you- Y’know its long!” he compromised. They looked at him through the thick glass of their goggles.

“I need something fast to call out! In case I get downed, you know - however unlikely that is!”, he boasted. They found it difficult to answer, not only did they not have a proper familiar term but the thought of Mirage calling to them with a name just for him to use? The idea made their head swim. They snapped back to the conversation when he started trying some names out loud. 

“Blood? Hmm, a little on the nose?” he mused, “ _ Blóth _ ? Ugh it sounds bad when i say it!” He recoiled from his own voice for a moment. If Bloodhound could giggle without finding it totally embarrassing, they would. It was enchanting to know he tried to pick up even a morsel of their naitive tongue. 

He wasn’t letting up, “Hound!” he sounded excited and it sent the tracker’s stomach into a flutter. His second persona melted away for a second. “Houndie?” He said softly. Oh, that tone. They’d only heard it once before when he administered first aid in a previous game. He had crouched to hold them, his face had gotten  _ so _ close. “I got you” he whispered. 

Their better judgement was stunned by that memory and before realizing it, they lilted out, “Actually, I’ve always been partial to ‘Sweetheart’.” 

…… What in the world had they just said? Why would they offer that? Why was it  _ true _ ? And why did they say a silent prayer that he would indulge them? 

He laughed, caught off guard. He swiped the thick curls of hair out of his face and donned that beautiful smile, just for them. 

“You’re gonna regret that joke!” He warned, dazzling them with his smile.  _ A joke. _

They were slightly disheartened, but ultimately relieved. He continued in a giddy tone to the ship’s doors. They distracted themselves from the embarrassment by mentally preparing for the fight. That was the purpose of the games, after all - to shed  _ bloth _ to honor their patron. Not to swoon over a fellow competitor. 

—

Mirage had picked their drop location, opting for the old wooden structures near the bunker. He always had luck there. Bloodhound had run so feverishly finding nothing of immediate use. The ping came through their comms and they turned to see Mirage, winking at them, “Bodysheild here,  _ Sweetheart _ ~!”

The heat that hit their face caught them off guard. He had found it entertaining to call out, obviously. They hurried to the equipment not answering, a curt Thank you left their mouth and they ran towards an unoccupied location in hopes of finding suitable weapons. He was hot on their heels. He soon had ran ahead of them site after site, they were happy to see him so eager. Bloodhound valued the bravery that came with running recklessly into the fray. 

The first fight they met had been a decided victory for the pair, Mirage taking out this first opponent, and Bloodhound expertly downing the second, indulging the pleasure of finishing them. They relished the feeling of Mirage clapping their back, “Excellent job, Sweets!” He praised. 

They tensed up, and wanted to say it was because of the thrill of battle -but truthfully, each time he ventured to touch them was a welcome feeling. Let alone the pet name. “W-we are blessed,  _ felagi _ .” They stutter and clear the area of all the useful loot, not allowing themselves to look at Mirage fully. 

The names would not stop, it seemed. He tried on many variations. Upon seeing completely sacked loot bins, he called to them in a sliding drawl, “ Aw shucks,  _ Darlin _ ’. Looks like another team got all the good stuff!”. Then again, when he spied an enemy far away: “Enemy,  _ hun _ . They look small.” That team was too far, it would be foolish to push, and Bloodhound began to assume that he was just making conversation as an excuse to keep testing their nicknames. And patience. They laughed when he piped up, “Incoming care package,  _ cookie _ !” What an obscenely cutesy variation. He laughed with them. Gods above they were in trouble. 

—

They had spent enough time gathering all of the valuables from a couple of death boxes they had created. The blood pumping through their veins was hotter than hot, if they believed in Mirage’s idea of _ being on a roll _ , they would be. Their senses returned to normal, and the cooling of their hands and eyes caused a slight fatigue as usual.

Mirage tapped their elbow with the back of his hand, looking into his minimap display, coolly noting, “Zone’s closing. Let’s boogie,  _ babe! _ ” 

Maybe it was the cool down. Maybe they were becoming inoculated to the names. Without a missing beat they chirped back, blushing, “Yes, my love.” A shock took hold of Mirage's entire body, Bloodhound smiled to themself - had the Great Mirage been so easily bested in a banter competition? 

Mirage gawked and watched them look forward and hurry towards safety. They didn't hear his footsteps behind them. 

Bloodhound looked back and in an instant heard the echoing of a Longbow, the crack of a shield and the splatter of blood. The man fell to the ground, shimmered with the transport tech used when someone falls in battle. The clunk of the death box was already the least of the hunter’s worries when a barrage of bullets pelted them in the head, chest, and abdomen. Both had fallen.


	2. Second, a Fight!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time, a slight misunderstanding. (narration shift to Mirage now!)

Waking up in med bay. Again.  _ Aw maaan - no way.. _ . 

Mirage slowly convinces his eyes to open. Takes in a familiar gunmetal-toned room with tons of beeping machines. First he groans out of frustration, and then - oof- sudden pain. He doesn't even need to look to tell theres already massive bruising on his shoulder and chest. The tech in the grounds of the Games will protect against the bullets themselves, but NOT the impact they carry once a shot is made. He squeezes his eyes closed to let the pain pass easier. 

He notices the distinct feeling of extra weight on his hospital bed mattress. A figure - large, fur-cowled, canvas head-to-toe- is hunched over, head resting on their crossed arms. They seem to be … asleep?

“Wha…? Bloodhound?-” he almost chuckles, it comes out dry.

That’s all it takes to wake them up- they jolt the tiniest bit, sit upright and turn their head away from Mirage. There's some fidgeting as they struggle to adjust their hat and facemask - no not  _ adjust _ , they’re putting them back on! The trickster realizes that he was /this/ close to seeing their face. “Mirage you- you are awake.” They say, much more calm than expected. “Ha yeah! What, were you sitting vigil for me?” he gestures (or attempts to) and winces from the sharp pain in his chest. “YEOUCH.”

Now properly fastened into their gear, Bloodhound stands - towers really- above the man in the bed. “A sniper downed you. We lost the match.”, they state, audibly annoyed. That tone put him on edge faster than anything. 

“A sni-? Well yeah! O-of course I got downed! It's a sniper!” He tries to toss his arms up again and winces, again. “What would  _ you  _ have done? Cartwheeled outta the-” Mirage tries one more time to mimic some sort of gymnastic maneuver, but hisses in pain. 

Bloodhound closes in and firmly grabs around Mirage’s arms- pinning them to his sides as well as the half-elevated hospital bed. They square the man’s face with theirs, “Stop. Flailing.” They hold him like that for a few beats, and then a few more. He really wished he was the one wearing a mask as he began to flush.

When they release him its abrupt, like even they had thought it was overstepping. They continued speaking, very factually. It felt like getting a post-game lecture, but then again, he guessed, that's exactly what this is... 

“You paused, you were in the open. You were hit, hard.” Mirage hated getting lectured. So he bit back.

“Bloodhound, that's the point of the games. We compete! Sometimes we win, sometimes we die”- 

“YOU. You died” Bloodhound interjects. “Beca-”

“We’ve all ‘died’ dozens of times! Why are you suddenly so pissy-pants about it?” Mirage manages to cross his arms, it hurts the whole time, but his anger dulls it a bit.

The hunter turns their entire body, they walk away with a swift and tense gait, no where near their usual bouncy saunter. Mirage, head shaking weakly, “No no, listen- I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I just - I lost my focus for a second-”

Ah, he remembers why.

Red embarrassment becomes apparent on his face. “Oh... right, yeah. Hey, I didn't mean to run that ‘sweetheart’ thing into the ground… I’m...” he trails off.  _ Sorry? _

Thing is, he  _ would _ apologize for that, but he really wasn’t sorry. Bloodhound nonchalantly accepting his silly pet names was some of the most fun he’s had in awhile. He swore he even got a chuckle at one of them and...God, is it hot in here, or just him?

He looks back up to see that his masked partner still has their back to him, fists clenched tight. They release a hand and splay all of their fingers wide, then relaxes them back to a neutral position, releasing the tension they were holding. 

“Mirage, I…” at first they sound surprisingly desperate, but their posture changes. Straightening their back, their head tilts side to side slowly and comes to center. Confident and calm - their new tone of voice echoes it, “I’ve not made myself clear. You died because of the shock of what I said. I didn't intend to startle you.”

“Oh… ” Mirage felt his face fall at the realization.  _ This wasn't a lecture. It was an… Apology? _ Here he was, being a defensive asshole, while his partner was actually feeling guilt and checking up on him. Actually, now that he thought about it, they were the only other legend ever to visit him in the med bay. “Oh, Oh Bloodhound, buddy, I know it was just...” _ just what?  _ “We were messin’ around….”

“No.” They look backward for a quick second, “I do not say things that I do not mean”. Their delivery was so tense, Mirage knew if he could see their face, he’d see their clenched jaw.

“B-Bloud-Hoond- Uh-uh-  _ Bloodhound _ \- w-wait, wait!” He calls after them uselessly and seconds too late; they’ve already cleared the room.

Mirage is left alone to listen to his own heartbeat. Beeping equipment telling him just how bad he had it. 


	3. Third, An Understanding!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirage finds Bloodhound and makes a formal apology - it goes far far better than expected.

The first challenge Mirage faced was actually  _ finding _ Bloodhound. 

He’d finally got confirmation they were in their quarters, hours and hours after he’d been discharged and changed into some casual clothes. He walked as fast as he could with his bruised body protesting all the way. 

And apparently the second challenge was getting himself to knock.

And how he was there. And they were there. He heard them shush a very annoyed “wrok!” from Artur. And now all he had to do was… knock. He had his hand up, fingers clenched. Almost ready. 

_ Anytime now. Just… do it.  _

A look of definitive shock took his face when the door opened. Bloodhound stood there in full gear. They grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him into their room, shutting the door instantly. 

Mirage hisses through the sudden painful motion, and again where he’s pushed into the wall. As always Bloodhounds mask is unreadable, and yet here Mirage goes trying to read it anyway. “Stalking my door?” They ask, “Why are you here, Mirage?”

“Wait woah- okay okay I get that you’re mad but… I’m lost as to what you’re exactly mad about.” Mirage chuckles nervously. “Cause- Cause um I thought you’d be pissed about losing the game but but uh you….” He becomes so aware of Bloodhound's strong hand clenching his shirt and holding him to the wall. He gulps, and it sounds like a cartoon.

“I am not.” They say measured and very deliberately- like they didn’t want to let something out. “Angry, That is.” 

“But you gotta be, I was out there being a total jackass.”, Mirage spoke before he thought - wait, was he encouraging them to continue this outburst? “And you’re sorta… holding me up for my lunch money here.” He smiles through his joke. They startle and let go of his collar, which allows the pain to rush back to his shoulder. Ouch. “My apologies, Mirage.” It’s unclear what for, even to themself.

They take a step back and lace their gloved fingers together, mask pointed towards the ground. They look totally ashamed. “I’m sorry I snapped in medbay. I … don’t do well with… letting people down” he smiled weakly, “especially my friends” he offered. 

“Mirage, I..” They trailed off. The man could listen to their voice say his name all day. The way they rolled their Rs, the way they lilted off the soft G. He was staring into those dark thick rims as if he could see anything behind them. He tried to for a long while but nothing came of it. He drifted to the last few things he heard them say. In an instant- it clicked together for him.

“Sweetheart?” He asked, “you li-like to be called that? I mean that’s what you said and then you said you don’t lie.” He perked back up instantly, feeling like he’s putting a Sherlockian mystery together. “You also called me… me…” Mirage paused, losing the courage to repeat the hunters words. He swallowed if only just to occupy his throat before knowing he’d have to continue to get his answer. “My love.” He looked at every detail in Bloodhounds mask, lord knows he had the time to, while the silence between them grew. He took a step towards them, in utter shock. Not only were their feelings a total surprise, but his sudden need for them to say ‘yes’ was another unpredictable thought. He really wanted to hear them say it. 

Or else he was doing nothing but making a fool of himself. 

Oh no… that’s exactly what was happening wasn’t it? He had cooked up this story in his stupid concussed brain, didn’t he? Oh no no no. He smiled a wide smile, it didn’t touch his eyes. Mirage held his hands up, a sign he was backing off but he was interrupted.

“Mirage please don’t do that.” They said pleadingly. Their hand found his elbow and held tightly onto it. 

“D-do what?-“ he scoffed incredulously. He had to de-escalate this, now. Get out before he crossed an invisible line. But Bloodhound spoke again.

“That. When you say something, and then attempt to convince that it was merely a joke.” Their grip felt white hot, the soft worn leather did nothing to mask the body heat ebbing from their hand.

He attempted to protest their accusation, but they were right. He was ready to cut this conversation and run back to his quarters and forget everything. It was getting real, like real real. His impulse to run before he fucked something up was not only strong, it was the only defense mechanism he had left.

He let his arms fall to his sides. “Hound.” He almost whimpered. “I have fun with you. No matter what we’re doing. You seem to be able to tolerate me, and my oversharing, and my- frankly ingenious- puns. I’m sorry. That I confused you.” He slumped against the wall, looking at the carpet instead of their mask. “I was flirting with you and never in a million years thought it would be… that someone like you could reprico- reciproct- could feel that way about me” 

“I have felt this way for… some time now.” they admitted, Mirage could not recall a time where they sounded this unconfident. He wanted to hold them. 

“And what way is that?” Mirage needed to hear them say it explicitly. Instead they tilted their head to the side, and stayed silent.

“Elliott” they began. His real name in their voice took all the air from his lungs, sending blood to his cheeks, “What i feel around you is strange. I have attempted to make sense of it, but…  _ you _ make no sense to  _ me _ .”

Mirage had no idea if this was a compliment, an insult, or a factual observation, but found comfort in the fact that neither did Bloodhound. 

“You are always ready to boast about yourself, and even more ready to chastise yourself. You have skill, you fight proudly, but you seem unconfident. You’ll happily call yourself a trickster. But you’re genuine, kind, brilliant, h…” they were silent for a beat, but the way their head slightly bobbed Mirage assumed they had gulped, “handsome.” They finally spit out. 

His knees were shaking. What on earth was he hearing right now. The galaxy’s most renowned hunter, a fiercely private warrior, the most enchanting person he’d ever met… had just called him handsome? And was confessing their feelings? This has to be a dream. 

“This is no dream, Elliott” They spoke in a short tone. Oh shit, he had just said that out loud. Is he still saying things out loud?

“Yes…” they drop their shoulders, and roll their head, seemingly annoyed. “I’ll understand if you do not feel the same way.” they step towards Mirage, “I owe this duty to myself to say aloud, that Mirage… Elliott… I like you.” That phrase sounded not quite naitive in their mouth, like they had asked someone how to express their feelings. He assumed Lifeline, maybe even Wraith had instructed them on the english term of “liking someone”. Wow could you imagine that conversation - Oh goddamnit he was taking too long to answer. 

“This is the point when I’d usually be kissing you - I- I- I mean someone who just said all that. I’m not sure what to do now, but, but - please don't find this offensive-” Mirage took their hand in his, and brought it to his face. 

He placed a kiss in their palm, and looked up through his lashes into their goggles. The hunter was so still, he couldn't help but feel like some poor prey in front of them. But he pressed on, not allowing the important words to stay stuck in his throat. “I think I like you too.” he kissed their palm again, near the heel. Next their wrists - still wrapped tightly with tape and leather. Getting no response, verbally or physically, his confidence was cracking. “Is this okay?” another kiss on the inside of their forearm, lips pressed to the band of the device strapped there. “I would stop, but I don't want to.” he continued, to the ditch of their elbow, the thick, banded material was rough against his face. He had placed their elbow on his own shoulder, making himself hold the weight of their arm up. He continued to press kisses to the bandages on their upper arms. He took a second to think about how this was the last activity he’d expect his day to end with.

“Bloodhound, I…” he turned his head to look at their mask, which was angled directly towards him, watching. He flushed red hot. “If this is too fast i can stop.” 

“Do you have your goggles?” they asked, a breathless tone was apparent even through the ventilator. 

He reached to the back of his belt, they were there. He detached them and held them between himself and Bloodhound. “Optics, here”, he attempted to break the tension. They took their arm back from being propped on his shoulder and plucked the glasses from his hand. Then he saw the glint of their hunting knife. 

“I will replace these.” They said. He was close to asking a clarifying question but was cut off by them scratching the lenses of the goggles so severely that the noise made him wince. 

“HOUND WHAT-” he nearly shouted, they startled but pressed the goggles into his hand.

“Put them on.” they ordered. He did, fixing his hair just so. 

“Congratulations. I can’t see out of these anymore” He said in a terse voice, “You know i think you could have just punched me to get me to stop-” Mirage cut himself off when he heard a distinct puff of compressed air. He knew in his gut that their mask was coming off. He just knew it. It shut him up. He heard clicks, and snaps, and elastic.  _ Oh my god _ . He licked his lips, not sure what to expect, but certainly hoping for something specific.

“Out of the Arena I would never dream of harming this perfect face.” They cooed with an unhindered voice. He felt their fingers trace along his cheekbones, and a breath on his lips. He couldn't help himself from squinting through the scratched glass, he saw only a distorted shape in front of him. Their hands cupped his face in a gentle resolve to not let him move. He let them close the distance between them.

Bloodhound’s lips were surprisingly soft, save for a rough scar marking the top one. Which Mirage only noted after he ran a tongue over it. They moaned lightly when he did that, and to respond he pressed further into their mouth, needing more. He felt their tongue trace his bottom lip, he sucked on their top one. He was sure that he could switch to a diet entirely of their gasps, living for each one he pulled. 

He felt himself becoming more assertive, his last thread of genuine confidence was being a good kisser. Mirage placed his hands on Bloodhound’s collar, pulling them towards him. They were taller than him so he angled appropriately to deepen their kiss as much as possible. He was surprised to find them this submissive, but he was enjoying it to say the least. He backed them to the nearest wall, ready to release the grip he had on their collar which was causing the bruising on his shoulder flare. They complied, softly huffing against the side of his mouth as he also gasped for a breath he didn't notice was missing. With a boost of confidence he pressed his cheek to theirs and whispered, “Sweetheart.”

Their hands were running along his back, sending a tingle through the man. One hand found the center of his shoulder blades, the other gripped his lower back. He took that as a sign that his hands were allowed to wander as well. Though they wore thick layers and armor, he found the waistband of their trousers. He stuck his thumbs through the beltloops on either side and just let his hands stay there. 

Images played through Mirage’s mind of the hunter. There was something in the way they swayed their hips when they walked. Something that oozed confidence. He knew they could slay nearly anything that threatened them. Or  _ slatra _ , as they said. When they slipped into that ancient language it was like honey to hear. Did they know how incredible they seemed to be?

“Elliott…” They pleaded, “do you truly not realize when you do that?” They swiped a thumb over his lips, which he had only just realized he was using. He had just said that all out loud. Again.

“Oh my - what the hell is wrong with me?” he laughed, thoroughly embarrassed. 

It was a rhetorical question, but they answered anyway, “Nothing.” 

They leaned down to his face again, he wished he could see them. He wanted them to allow him to see them. He tried not to spin into feeling slighted because they wanted their face to remain private. He could feel how beautiful they were through the simple intense pleasure of kissing them. That would be enough for him until they were ready. 

He went to place his hands on the back of their neck, but as soon as he raised his arms, he cried out in pain. “AHhhh! Ah! Ow.” He pulled off of the tracker and placed a hand over his shoulder, not doing much to ease the pain but it was something to do at least.

“You're… still injured.” They said tentatively. “I apologize, I hope nothing I did caused you more pain” It sounded to Mirage that they were backing away, he still had no way to see them through the scuffed glass.

“No no this wasn't you, I tried to, you know, move. Like an idiot” He spoke with a tensed jaw. This didn’t feel like the superficial wound that the medical attendants promised it was. “Maybe you could kiss it? Make it better?” he smirked, leaning forward with comically puckered lips. Their voice came from behind him, “Healing kisses. Like a fairy tale.” he jolted, not expecting how quickly they slipped behind him.They put a solid hand to his upper arm, and on his neck. “May I?” they asked. “May you what? Do you have a secret doctorate i don't know about?“ 

“I have many things you do not know about” he heard them smile. “I only wish to inspect, perhaps say a prayer over it.” They clarified. He really wanted to hear that prayer.

“Sure, go right ahead.” He wiggled his head playfully, ignoring the ache. They paused. 

“I’ll … need to… Your top…” They muttered. He caught onto their thought process and probably turned tomato colored. “Yes.” he answered, as monotone as possible. In his head, there was cheering. Gingerly, he freed his non-injured side first, and slipped his head though the hole, careful not to touch the goggles. He slowly peeled the remaining sleeve down his other arm. The cold of the room hit the red-hot bruising in a way that caused a full body shiver. Bloodhounds warm gloves were back on his skin, the heat from them was more than welcome. He almost swore that he felt them trace his bicep. He might explode. He let himself drift in thought, imagining the hunter tracing along more muscles, more divots, along his neck, down near his hips. A sudden pain tore through him, bringing a yell with it. “AHhhhouuuchhh!!! Warn a guy next time please!” he let his eyes water, happy they were obscured for the first time. 

“Apologies, Elliott. Your arm may need a sling. It was nearly dislocated. We should go to Ms. Che.”

“G-go?” He whipped his head towards them, he stuttered over the first few words of his sentence but finally got his rhythm, “I don’t want to go anywhere I want to stay here and keep…”  _ Kissing. Say it. _ , “...you company.”  _ Nice save, Ell. _

“Your health is important” Their voice was back in front of him. He blindly reached out and found their torso, and grabbed it like a raft. He found their mouth again, and greedily kissed them. They were noticeably trying to keep them brief and chaste but was failing fast. Mirage smiled so wide at this small victory he knew Bloodhound would feel it, he wanted them to feel his curled lips against theirs. 

“I can’t believe I won our first fight” he fake-boasted, snaking his hand up to the back of their neck. They laughed at his joke, but had no retort. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty for reading so far!!! i'll have a steamy bonus chapter at some point but for now indulge in the cheesey makeout session~!

**Author's Note:**

> I made this comic a million years ago, and wanted to expand on it!! check it out ( only if you're over 18!)
> 
> https://twitter.com/EnEssEffDouble/status/1240848093911932929


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